


Stronger

by teatearsandbbc



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Badass Cecil, Bottom!Cecil, Cecil Is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil is Inhuman, Double Penetration, Fighting, M/M, Sort of? - Freeform, Tentacles, blowjob, not bdsm, power play?, tentacledick, third eye, top!Carlos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:22:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatearsandbbc/pseuds/teatearsandbbc
Summary: When Cecil and Carlos are attacked by monsters, Carlos prepares to defend his boyfriend. But it turns out Cecil has a few surprises up his sleeve.Or Cecil kicks interdimensional ass and Carlos is caught totally off guard. Smut ensues.





	1. The Limits of Power

They were walking home hand in hand from the drive-in movie theater when it happened. Enormous figures quite literally melted out of the shadows, taking shape and dripping darkness, with huge burly frames that towered. They had to be at least seven feet tall, and Carlos instinctively tried to push Cecil behind him, knowing as he did it that it was pointless. If the figures wanted to take them (and if they did, it would probably only mean two, maybe three days tops, of brutal interrogation), they would. Carlos might have adrenaline, desperation, and protective instinct on his side, but they had sheer physical force.

  
To his surprise, Cecil stepped around in front of Carlos. The scientist reached to push him back out of harm’s way, but his hand froze in the act. There was a quiet, dangerous force emanating from Cecil. His hands were held loosely at his sides and he didn’t swagger the way so many meathead bullies did, but Carlos could see a steel come into Cecil’s eyes that he had never imagined he would find there. Cecil’s shoulders were down and the slight energy in his frame told Carlos Cecil had grounded himself, planting his feet and setting his weight. He lowered his chin and waited.

  
The first figure reached them and stretched out an inky hand, trying to grab Cecil’s wiry arm. Cecil ducked, stepped towards the figure, and smashed a fist driven by his forward momentum into the thing’s chest so fast that Carlos hardly had time to comprehend what had happened and how easily the motion had come to Cecil. The figure staggered backward and its slow, almost casual movements suddenly sharpened. The second and third figures had reached Cecil, and Carlos, his heart pounding, steeled himself to jump in and do what he could to help his sweet, wonderful boyfriend.

  
But he never got a chance. As he watched, his mouth falling open, Cecil ducked and kicked and dodged and punched, his motions instinctive and powerful. The figures never could get more than a hand on his arm before Cecil knocked them back again. At last, with a roar, he ducked a punch that landed squarely in a second figure’s face and turning so fast it was blinding, he kicked the third figure square in the chest so hard it staggered back into the shadows and melted away. By the time he turned on the other two figures, they had followed suit.

  
They stood for a moment, Carlos staring at Cecil, who seemed to be assessing if there was any other threat. As soon as he found there wasn’t, he turned and rushed to Carlos, cupping his face in those long, pale hands, ruddy just now from the fight, and anxiously examining Carlos.

  
“Oh beautiful, perfect Carlos, are you all right?” he asked, his voice high pitched and worried. When Carlos didn’t answer, only continued to stare at Cecil, his mind a blank, the radio host’s purple eyes lightened and became frantic. He began searching Carlos’s body for injuries, his hands flitting over chest, stomach, back, neck.

  
“Carlos? Carlos! Tell me you’re okay! Say something!” Cecil actually stuck a finger in Carlos’s mouth, trying to peer inside and hook out some imagined piece of debris. This made Carlos splutter, almost bite Cecil’s finger, and get his brain back in gear.

  
“Cecil, I’m fine! I’m okay,” he said, grabbing the shaking hands that were still searching for a wound and pressing them to his chest. Cecil nearly cried with relief and returned his hands to Carlos’ face, cupping his chin and searching for verification.

  
“But Cecil, what the hell was that?” Carlos demanded, grabbing the tender fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

  
“What was what?” Cecil asked, eyes wide and back to their usual violet color.

  
“Cecil, you just beat the ever-living shit out of those things!” Carlos didn’t like to swear, but the situation seemed to warrant it. Carlos had seen Cecil flee screaming from things as ordinary as the rearview mirror in his car and had watched him coo over pictures of Khoshek, blush to the roots when Carlos said something even remotely indelicate, giggle and gossip with Old Woman Josie like a teenager. Now all of a sudden he pulls out this bad-ass set of fighting skills?

  
“Oh, that,” Cecil said, rolling his eyes. “Carlos, I’ve been running for my life and fighting my way out of terrible situations for my whole life. One does tend to pick up a trick or two that way.”

“But normally, you’re so – so – so not that!” Carlos said. “Cecil, for Christ’s sake, you cried at the end of Bambi!”

  
“That was a terrible movie!” Cecil protested. “And besides, I don’t see that there’s much point to crying in a situation like that one.” He jerked his thumb at the shadows that somehow still seemed to be cringing. “I tried that at first and it very rarely works.” He shrugged. “It’s just something I have to do sometimes.”

  
Carlos shook his head and let Cecil take his hand and lead him down the sidewalk, headed again towards home.

~ ~ ~

It wasn’t until later that night, when they were sitting on the couch, Cecil leaning back against Carlos’ chest and beginning to scratch patterns in Carlos’ thigh in a way Carlos knew meant there was a blowjob in his future that a thought occurred to him. It was so shocking he sat straight up, nearly dumping Cecil off the couch.

  
“Oh my god!” he said, almost accusingly, staring again at his rather petulant-looking boyfriend.

  
“What?” Cecil asked, his discontent coloring his voice.

  
“You’ve been – you’ve been –"

“Well yes, for longer than anyone ever seems to care to discuss. I’d say you’ve been for about forty years or so. Did you not know that before?” A hint of a confused frown crossed Cecil’s face.

“No, that isn’t what I mean,” Carlos almost snapped. “All this time, every time we have sex, you always let me top. You –” Carlos, even in the shock of his realization, stopped and lowered his tone, a little embarrassed. “You let me hold you down, let me take charge.”

“Yes, I do,” Cecil replied, his face beginning to tinge a delicate lilac and his eyes taking on a deeper eggplant hue.

  
“All this time, I thought I was really in charge, really pinning you down.”

  
“Hmmm, it is _very_ nice,” Cecil hummed, his eyes a definite shade of eggplant now and his fingers straying back towards Carlos’ thigh.

  
“But you’re stronger than me!” For some reason, the fact caught Carlos completely off guard. He didn’t mean just physical strength either. He had seen that steel now, knew Cecil could be hard and unrelenting. And to find out now that all the times he had crowded Cecil against a wall or car, pinned his hands to the bed, taken Cecil apart hadn’t been because of his own skill. It had been because Cecil decided to let him. He couldn’t explain it, but it was a huge blow to his ego.

  
Somehow, Cecil seemed to understand. A faint glow beginning to pulse in the center of Cecil’s forehead gave Carlos a sneaking suspicious about how his boyfriend understood so clearly what he had articulated so poorly.

  
“And stop that,” he really did snap this time. Somehow, the whole thing was hugely upsetting. He knew Cecil was hugely loved in Night Vale and that the reason he, Carlos, was so easily accepted was because everyone knew speaking ill of Carlos would relegate them to Steve Carlsburg-levels of pariahhood. He knew Cecil was (more or less) omnipotent, with his third eye that could see the thoughts and actions of everyone in Night Vale. He knew, _knew_ that Cecil was better-looking that he was. He knew he was ancient, benevolent, kind and gentle and compassionate to a fault, funny, smart, joyful, all the best of everything Carlos thought a person should be. The one thing Carlos had thought he had going for him was that he was more confident in bed. And now it turned out that Cecil had merely been granting that to him the whole time and well, that left Carlos with squat and Cecil a paradigm of probably-inhuman perfection.

  
Carlos also knew that Cecil had heard all of that as the purple glow in the center of his forehead intensified. Just as he was getting ready to stand up and go find someplace where he could chew on his own liver in private, Cecil put a hand on his chest, pushed him back against the couch, and straddled his lap. Carlos ducked his head, refusing to meet Cecil’s eyes, but Cecil placed a finger under Carlos’ chin and tilted his face up.

  
“Beautiful, sweet, perfect, perfect Carlos,” he breathed, his lips so close to Carlos’ that he could taste the oddly sweet flavor of Cecil’s breath. “My wonderful Carlos, do you realize how few people in the world actually _can_ hold me down?” He kissed Carlos then, long and hot and possessively. “Do you realize that you are the only person on earth who I would let bend me over a table and fuck me open like you do?”

  
Carlos’ brain seemed to be short-circuiting. Although it was true he didn’t like swearing, hearing Cecil talk dirty like that, in that voice, was something Carlos thought he could listen to until he drowned in the sound of it.

  
“Carlos, submitting to you is the best power I possess. The strength, the knowledge, all of it is pointless without having you to give it all up to. It’s meaningless. You are the star that orients my life and without you, I would be utterly helpless, powerless, and desolate.” His deep purple eyes seemed to melt into Carlos in the sweetest way, and somewhat hesitantly, Carlos threaded a hand through Cecil’s hair and pulled him down for a kiss. Cecil responded joyfully, tangling his arms around Carlos’ neck and melting into his chest (thankfully, not literally). Carlos moved slowly, growing bolder inch by inch as Cecil continued to show signs of a total willingness to follow Carlos wherever he might lead them.

  
After a few minutes in which Carlos turned out a number of hickeys on Cecil’s neck that would have everyone at the station thinking the flying octopi had come back to town, Carlos wrapped an arm around Cecil’s waist and flipped them over so he was on top. Cecil let out a breathy little “oh!” at this, but Carlos didn’t pause to look at him. Rather, he kissed his way down the radio host’s slender chest, pausing to flick open each of the buttons on Cecil’s vest with his teeth. This had Cecil whimpering and clinging to Carlos’ shoulders with hands he now knew were, in fact, strong enough to bruise. Carlos had discovered not long into their relationship that Cecil was, unsurprisingly, very orally fixated. In Cecil’s view, blowjobs were the absolute pinnacle of human experience, no matter which side of the interaction he was on, and rimming was a deeply sacred act. Carlos could feel a writhing beneath Cecil’s trousers that was beginning to be strong enough to see through his pants. Carlos spared a half-glance up at Cecil before gently scraping his teeth over the wriggling bulge in front of his face.

  
Cecil let out a piteously broken whine that somehow made Carlos feel suddenly much more confident. He undid Cecil’s pants with his teeth too (that trick had taken a while to learn, but Cecil hadn’t seemed to mind the lessons) and dragged the pants and briefs down Cecil’s slim hips.

  
The sight that greeted him as the elastic of Cecil’s briefs slid down would have (and, in fact, had) scared him shitless a year ago. But now he merely grinned and threaded his fingers through the mass of writhing tentacles that sat where normal male human genitalia would be. The tentacles were the exact color of Cecil’s eyes and about six inches long. As Carlos dragged his calloused fingertips down the length of them, Cecil reached down a long arm and fisted a hand in Carlos’ hair, not tugging, but seeming rather to need something to hang onto. His every breath was punctuated now by a little moan or a “Carlooos” in the same high-pitched breathy tone he had used every time he had spoken to or about Carlos during the scientist’s first year in Night Vale. The elaborate tattoos that wound around Cecil’s arms, chest, and back had begun to writhe, and Carlos watched them for a long moment, feeling the burn of arousal in his chest as the ink shifted.

  
Then he leaned down and lazily licked a long, hot stripe up the tentacle waving closest to his mouth. He never could get over the taste of Cecil’s tentacles. They had that same strange, dark sweetness as his mouth and his sweat, but somehow, there was a tingle that reminded Carlos of eating too much pineapple and made him suspect whatever the tentacles secreted contained some form of mild acid. He hummed appreciatively as he took the tip of a tentacle into his mouth, and Cecil cried out, tangling both hands now in Carlos’ hair and, Carlos knew, trying his utmost not to buck up into his boyfriend’s mouth. He continued his slow, casual ministrations, never sucking hard enough or flicking his tongue fast enough to bring Cecil close to the edge, but showing enough attention to keep the tentacles elongating until they were nearly ten inches long and thick, throbbing purple. He buried his face in the tentacles, feeling them wind into his hair and caress his jaw and brush over his eyelids, and Carlos mouthed gently at the soft, supple base of them. Cecil nearly sobbed his name.

  
“Carlos, Carlooos, please!” he begged, and somehow, the knowledge that Cecil could have broken out and taken care of himself and yet didn’t, chose instead to beg Carlos to give him that pleasure, left Carlos hanging on dizzily through a heady rush of pride and arousal. He pulled back and looked at Cecil out of hooded eyes.

  
“I want you to open yourself for me?” He had meant to say it as a command, wanted to push the limits of his power over Cecil, but at the last moment, self-doubt crept in and twisted the words into a request. Cecil, however, immediately complied, his breath hitching at how low and rough Carlos’ voice had become. Two of the elongated tentacles moved quickly towards Cecil’s ass and without so much as a moment’s hesitation, he pushed one into himself. Carlos sat back on his heels, watching in breathless adoration as Cecil pumped the tentacle quickly into himself, further and further, stretching himself open for him, for Carlos. His grip on the ankle Cecil had thrown over his shoulder tightened and he pressed a kiss to his partner’s anklebone, smoothing his other hand down the inside of Cecil’s thigh.

  
It wasn’t long before Cecil pushed the second tentacle in beside the first, gasping as he was slicked open, and then (it seemed to Carlos a second and an eternity later, entranced as he was), he curled the tips of the two tentacles and pulled, holding himself open for Carlos. The scientist could only gape for a moment, a strangled moan escaping him, and then he was scrambling forward on his knees, having divested himself of his pants and boxers while Cecil had been preparing himself.

  
Carlos groaned, long and low, as he pushed himself in between the two tentacles, which, in an act that knocked out what was left of Carlos’ coherent thinking, didn’t withdraw. Suddenly, Carlos found himself pushing not only into the tight, glorious heat of Cecil, drinking in the sounds that fell from the radio host’s normally articulate mouth, but also pushing through tentacles which shifted and gripped and teased his slit and sweet heavens, all Carlos could do was hang on for dear life to the lanky man beneath him and try to keep his skull from exploding. He could see the purple eye glowing in the center of Cecil’s forehead and he knew he was listening to Carlos’ thoughts, whatever was left of them, drinking in Carlos’ pleasure as well as his own.

  
It was a rather embarrassingly short time later when the feeling of Cecil’s mouth latching onto his neck and humming vibrations into his skin pushed Carlos over the brink. He pushed all the way into Cecil, bit down hard on his boyfriend’s neck, and, whimpering and shaking, emptied himself into the radio host. Cecil gasped at the bite and the sensation of hot cum pouring through his tentacles, and wrapping himself around Carlos’ throbbing cock, he came too with a shouted oath. The convulsive gripping of Cecil’s tentacles on Carlos’ sensitive skin dragged a broken shout from Carlos, a sound which Cecil swallowed down, catching Carlos in a rough, messy kiss.

  
After a moment in which both men tried to catch their breath, swallowing down the last breathy moans, foreheads pressed together, Carlos drew himself out of Cecil, arranged his legs so he wasn’t crushing the man’s tentacles, and draped himself over his boyfriend’s chest.

  
“You are the most amazing, perfect, gorgeous, powerful human being I have ever known,” Cecil murmured lavishly into Carlos’ hair, trailing his thin fingertips over the scientist’s back. Carlos tipped his head up to kiss Cecil’s jaw.

  
“And you’re the most breathtaking, all-powerful, omniscient, tentacly hunk of glorious man I’ve ever seen,” he replied. Cecil laughed and threaded a hand into Carlos’ hair.

  
“Are you convinced now that the fact that I can beat up a few evil shadows of darkness doesn’t change how much I adore you?”

  
“Hmm,” Carlos hummed. “Maybe. And I do have to admit, it’s pretty sexy that my boyfriend can kick interdimensional butt to save me.”

  
Carlos swore he could almost feel Cecil flush lavender.


	2. A Touch of Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As much fun as Carlos has taking Cecil apart, he can't help thinking how dead sexy it would be for Cecil to use those muscles on him.
> 
> Or Carlos is a slut for badass!Cecil. (To be fair, aren't we all?)

A week or so later, Cecil glanced up to find Carlos looking speculatively at him across the breakfast table.

      “What’s on your mind?” he asked, tilting his head in the way that always brought a smile to Carlos’ lips.

      “Cranial fluid,” Carlos cracked, flashing a grin, and Cecil laughed delightedly, only rolling his eyes a little.

      “No, seriously,” Cecil said earnestly, his eyes probing Carlos’ as he leaned his chin on his hand.

      “Well…” Carlos said slowly. “Honestly, I was thinking again about the way you beat up those shadow things a few days ago.” Cecil’s face fell slightly and his lower lip pouted out.

      “I thought I had convinced you,” he said, standing up and moving to cup Carlos’ face in his hands, “that just because I can do that doesn’t make you any less, or me any less amazed at your frankly mind-blowing skills in bed. I adore you and I will spend the rest of my life giving myself up to you wholeheartedly if that will convince you that you are perfect and awe-inspiring.”

      Carlos smiled and turned his head to kiss Cecil’s palm tenderly. But then a mischievous light came into his eyes and he grinned.

      “Actually,” he said, drawing the word out, “I was thinking more about how dead sexy it would be for you to hold me down and make love to me. Use those muscles now I know you have them.” He finished the sentence by nipping Cecil’s palm. Cecil gulped, his eyes shading darker and a soft lilac blush creeping into his cheeks.

      “I – I think I’d like that,” he said a little breathlessly, rubbing the pad of his thumb across Carlos’ lower lip. Carlos sucked the finger into his mouth with soft lips and tongue, and Cecil’s eyes flickered back in his head. Then he took a deep breath, glanced at his watch, and, with what he considered an effort worthy of Station Management, pulled his thumb out of Carlos’ soft mouth.

      “Unfortunately, I have to go to work,” he sighed. If he didn’t know for a fact that Station Management would simply teleport him to work if he was late, no matter what situation he might be in at the time, he would have skivved off for the day. But too many interns had seen him in various compromising situations, from halfway through a shower to halfway through a wank to trying to get gum unstuck from the back of his head, to risk that again. Carlos smiled at the deep regret in his boyfriend’s eyes.

      “Go,” he said. “I have an experiment to get started on anyway.”

      “Oh?” Cecil said, brightening. He always loved hearing about Carlos’ experiments. “What’s that?”

      “How big of a butt plug can I take before my team notices I’m walking funny,” Carlos replied, grinning at Cecil in a way the radio host _knew_ should be illegal.

      He fled.

      That day at work was a challenge. Cecil would be halfway through his report on the sounds that seemed to have joined the lights above the Arby’s when the image would appear in his mind of Carlos working a butt plug into himself in the lab bathroom, trying to stifle a moan, his back arched and his face slack with pleasure, maybe palming himself as he thought of Cecil, prepared himself for him…

      And the situation wasn’t helped by Cecil’s third eye. He usually relied on his voluntary omniscience to deliver timely reports on what was going on in Night Vale to his viewers. But the first time he had opened his third eye to survey what the news of the day was, he caught Carlos in the very act of slipping the first plug, a thin little thing made of stainless steel and which Cecil knew from experience would rest so wonderfully weightily against Carlos’ prostate, into himself. He had to jump quickly to a pre-recorded sponsor ad to give himself time to catch his breath and convince his third eye that it must close and could not watch Carlos all day long.

      And so Cecil had to just rely on Intern Stacy to bring him news reports. If the news was a little slower for one day, the citizens of Night Vale would survive, and, well, it certainly beat the alternative.

      By the time Cecil signed off his show and all but fled the station that evening, he found he was quite ready to hold Carlos down and do all manner of filthy things to him. He risked a quick glimpse with his third eye once he was in his car in the parking lot. What he saw made him devoutly glad he hadn’t started the engine yet. Carlos had come home early and was laying splayed out on their bed, totally naked and with one hand loosely fisting his cock while the other reached between his legs to nudge at a butt plug that Cecil saw with a choked oath was easily two inches across. He snapped his third eye shut, pinched his thigh very hard through his slacks (which didn’t seem to help much), and cranked his car, slamming it into reverse.

      He was glad the Secret Police were all trying to work out a way to taze the sounds above the Arby’s from their blue helicopters. He didn’t think he had ever made the drive home so quickly. He slammed on the brakes in his own driveway, parking so haphazardly that he knew he had left deep tracks in the lawn. He didn’t care at all. It took all of his willpower not to manifest his tentacles and rip the door off its hinges when he reached it. Instead, keeping his third eye _firmly_ shut, he paused for a moment outside the door, taking a few deep, shuddering breaths and drawing in the reserve of self-control he pulled around himself when he was fighting. It felt strange to be marshalling that kind of sinister force when he wasn’t defending himself, but he knew if he rushed in there right then, he would wind up begging Carlos to fuck him, to take him apart, and Carlos seemed drawn to that control he summoned in dangerous situations. So Cecil lifted his chin, controlled his breathing, and, settling into the calm, menacing demeanor he had constructed for himself, he opened the door.

      He didn’t walk so much as stalk to the bedroom at the back of the house, dropping his keys on the coffee table and kicking his shoes off as he moved purposefully through the darkened house. His hearing had sharpened and he could hear the small, wet sounds emanating from the bedroom as he moved down the hall. At the last minute before he walked through the door, he opened his third eye fully.

 

~ ~ ~

 

      Carlos had spent his day dancing back and forth between wicked delight at the thought of what he must be doing to Cecil, knowing he must be watching Carlos stretch himself open, try to keep his composure as he moved through his day with that plug shifting inside of him, and a desperate longing so acute it was all Carlos could do not to rush to the radio station and demand that Cecil have his way with him right there on that table in the breakroom, scorpions or no. This tug of war, aided by the persistent nudge of the ever-larger butt plugs against his rim, his inner walls, his prostate, and the strain of hiding his half-hard cock behind his lab coat all day, had left Carlos hyper-sensitized. His clothes had hit the floor the second he got home that evening (an hour early; he hadn’t been able to stand it any more and knew if he stayed, his team would know something was up). He had stumbled back to the bedroom, stopping halfway along the hall to palm at his cock, which was now fully hard, and place a shaking finger against the plug currently stretching him wide. He had groaned at the feeling and pulled his hands away quickly, focusing on making it to the bed. Once there, Carlos had worked on calming himself, trying to take deep breaths and force down his arousal. At this rate, he would wind up coming the second Cecil walked in the door. He shuddered at the thought of the slender radio host emanating that dangerous energy, knowing he could pin Carlos to the bed and do all manner of unspeakable things to him. Carlos had fisted his hands in his hair, gritted his teeth around the whine threatening to escape, and tried to focus on taking deep, slow breaths. He hadn’t been able to resist stroking his cock just a bit, though, just as he knew Cecil must be finishing his show. Slowly and loosely enough not to bring him to the edge.

      When Carlos had heard Cecil’s car screech to a stop outside the house, his breath had hitched, just a bit. He let his bent knees fall to the side, his heart stuttering a little at how spread-open and vulnerable that left him, and rested his arms above his head on the pillow. He wanted Cecil to take complete control, and Carlos was going to give him every opportunity to do so.

      Cecil rounded the door into their bedroom and Carlos gave a little shuddering gasp at how his boyfriend looked. Cecil’s slim shoulders were down and his hands hung loosely at his sides again. His chin was tucked low and the eyes that burned at Carlos through long, blonde lashes were the color of storm clouds – deep purple with a dangerous touch of gray. But what really sent hot little flashes pulsing down Carlos’ cock, making it twitch and bob above his stomach, smearing a slick line into his happy trail, was the third eye. Cecil had opened it fully and it glowed purple down on Carlos. Cecil was manifesting his full power, turning both his physical strength and his omniscience on Carlos. Carlos couldn’t be entirely sure, but he thought his heart might actually, literally, have skipped a beat.

      Cecil stalked into the room, moving with a deliberateness that made Carlos tremble. He stopped at the foot of the bed, running his eyes slowly over every inch of Carlos’ body. Finally, he flicked his eyes back up to meet Carlos’, and a wicked little smile spread on Cecil’s lips.

      “Hello, Carlos,” he said, and dear god, that _voice_. It was the Voice of Night Vale, the voice Cecil pulled out when he wanted maximum effect, just before he went to the weather, whenever he was describing a particularly illicit activity, when he greeted his listeners. It was low and rich and so smooth Carlos could almost taste it on his tongue. But there was an edge to it tonight. Just a little extra roughness that made Carlos catch his breath because _oh_ , he had never heard a sound that was so purely sex come from anyone before. The smile on Cecil’s lips grew a little wider, and then he began to talk.

      “Look at you, Carlos, so spread out for me. Shall I describe how you look, Carlos? Describe what I see?” Cecil’s hands had moved to the collar of his button down shirt, and each time he said Carlos’ name, he popped open a button. Carlos swallowed hard and nodded. He didn’t trust his vocal cords just then. Cecil’s third eye seemed almost to twinkle with sultry amusement.

      “Very well,” Cecil said. “I’ll start –” he paused lasciviously, “at the top. Your hands, Carlos, are gripping that pillow like you wish it could be my hair. You wish you could tangle your hands in my hair, make it stand on end, pull me down on your cock when I suck you off, don’t you, Carlos?” Two more buttons gave way, revealing the surprisingly firm planes of Cecil’s pale chest. “And your own hair. Have you been pulling it, Carlos?” Another button flicked open. “Pulling it trying to keep your body under control, wishing it was me pulling it, threading my fingers through that perfect hair. And your face, Carlos. Your eyes are so wide, your pupils so blown, looking at me. Your mouth is so juicy, so good, waiting for me to ravage it, Carlos.” The last button was flicked open, and for a moment, Cecil let his long, strong fingers linger just at the top of his slacks before they moved back up to his collar.

      “Your neck is smooth and flush now, Carlos,” Cecil continued while Carlos tried valiantly to keep his ragged breath from devolving into whimpers. “What will it look like when I suck marks into it until you’re shaking beneath me?” He was dying for Cecil to touch him, dying to move, to wrap himself around him, but the look in those storm cloud eyes and the glowing third eye held him in place. Cecil slowly slid his shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall off his frame as his hands returned to his sides, and Carlos did actually whine a little at that. He was ridiculously drawn to Cecil’s tattoos. He had never been a fan of sleeve tattoos until he saw the mass of writhing purple tentacles that snaked down the radio host’s biceps and onto his forearms, dragging Carlos’ eyes down the gorgeous lines of Cecil’s body. And the fact that they _actually_ writhed, shifted beneath Cecil’s skin when he was irritated or itchy or…aroused. As Carlos watched, they began to move, undulating slowly along Cecil’s arms.

      “Look at your chest, your stomach, heaving,” Cecil continued in that voice that Carlos could nearly drown in. “You can’t catch your breath, looking at me. Is it because you know I can pin you down, make you feel more than you’ve ever felt before?”  Slowly, a tentacle peeled itself off of Cecil’s wrist, snaking through space and just brushing the inside of Carlos’ ankle. The supine scientist whimpered a little at even that slight contact. “And your cock, so hard, so ready for me,” Cecil purred, looping his tentacle around Carlos’ ankle more firmly and manifesting another. “And that plug.” For the briefest flicker of a moment, Carlos almost thought he saw the steel slip and wonder enter his boyfriend’s eyes. Then Cecil grinned slowly, wickedly, and said, in the deepest voice yet, “Did you imagine it was me sliding into you when you used it to stretch yourself open?” Carlos actually whined at this as the second tentacle twined around his other ankle, and he nodded.

      Cecil leaned over Carlos then, bracing his hands on either side of Carlos’s head, but still not touching him. “I am going to fill you up, pin you to this bed and take you apart _slowly_ , my sweet, perfect Carlos,” he whispered, and Carlos’ self-restraint snapped. His hands flew forward, intent on pulling the radio host to him and kissing the breath out of him, but suddenly, his wrists collided with something solid. He gasped and, looking up, he saw that Cecil had somehow managed to catch his wrists before they had moved more than a few inches apart. He loomed over Carlos, supporting himself on his left hand and grasping Carlos’ wrists in the thin, strong fingers of his right. His third eye glowed purple above Carlos. Slowly, he pushed the scientist’s hands back onto the bed over his head and lowered his mouth to Carlos’ neck.

      “Oh, I don’t think so,” Cecil breathed, and then he latched onto Carlos’ neck and started sucking a spectacular hickey. Carlos’ voice came back to him all in a rush.

      “Oh my _God_ , Cecil!” he moaned. “Oh my god, you’re so amazing, so sexy, oh Cecil, please don’t stop, please, please touch me.” His voice cracked on the last words, and Cecil grinned against his neck, teeth scraping against flesh. He shifted his weight to free his left hand, still holding his body millimeters above Carlos’ and slowly he placed a finger on the butt plug still stretching Carlos open. He nudged it just slightly, just right, and Carlos jerked and cried out at the way it brushed against his prostate. His arms tugged against Cecil’s grip, but the radio host’s hands were steel and he couldn’t move so much as an inch. Meanwhile, Cecil had manifested his other two tentacles and, rather than lowering himself onto Carlos’ body, he wrapped them around the scientist’s back, lifting him off the bed and forcing Carlos to come to _him_. When their lips met, Carlos thought his heart and brain and cock might all explode at once. Cecil was so hard and insistent against him, his abdomen taught with the effort of holding them both up, his cock a hard line against Carlos’ hip, his mouth hot and hard and possessive, claiming every part of Carlos for his own. Carlos tugged lightly at the hands pinning his, more out of a desire to feel the unrelenting grip holding him down than anything, tried to grind his hips up against Cecil’s, and kissed back ferociously, allowing Cecil to push his tongue into Carlos’ mouth, sucking hard on it and nipping Cecil’s lips when he pulled back.

      And then Cecil was done being slow. He lowered Carlos to the bed, never letting their bodies part for even a second, and his left hand went to his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them and shoving them down around his slender ankles. Carlos writhed in the tentacles still wrapped around him, doing his level best to keep up with the number of hickeys Cecil was sucking into his neck and chest. Cecil’s hand was suddenly back at Carlos’ ass, and he moaned when he felt those fingers close around the end of the plug and begin, slowly, to draw it out. He was panting and shivering by the time Cecil worked it all the way out of him, his two tentacles pulling Carlos’ knees up and pushing them back to rest on either side of Cecil’s ribcage. The radio host was still covering his chest and neck with kisses and bites, and when at last the plug slipped from Carlos’ hole with an obscene _pop_ , he pushed back slightly to look at his scientist, those purple-gray eyes hooded and burning.

      “Open up,” he commanded in a low, quiet voice and though Carlos wanted to quip that he was about as open as it _gets_ , with his legs spread and his arms pinned, so deliciously helpless, the look in Cecil’s eyes compelled him, and Carlos let his jaw drop open. His eyes fluttered shut when Cecil placed the plug into his mouth, stretching his jaw wide, and Carlos had never thought that sucking on something that had so recently been inside of him could be so _hot_ until it was Cecil feeding it to him. He sucked and licked on it and when he opened his eyes to meet Cecil’s, he saw that storm-cloud gray almost seeming to roil, and the third eye glowing bright, drinking in Carlos’ ecstasy.

      And then the plug was gone and it was Cecil’s tongue that filled his mouth, licking the taste of Carlos out of his mouth, sliding three fingers all at once into the grasping slick of Carlos’ body. He brushed Carlos’ prostate with a fingertip and Carlos arched hard up against him, whimpering and biting his own lips, drowning in the feel of Cecil moving inside him and knowing how much better it was about to get.

      Cecil’s tentacles pushed Carlos’ legs back so far it was just on the edge of painful, and Cecil shifted over him, aligning himself. Then, to Carlos’ everlasting delight, Cecil’s larger tentacles shifted and slid Carlos down around Cecil’s hot, writhing smaller tentacles.

      “ _Shit._ ” The word came from above him, hard and clipped, and Carlos’ pulse spiked again. Usually, Cecil was so needy in bed, vocal and begging. But this new side of him was so much harder in almost every way, and it left Carlos melting, trying to slide down around Cecil’s many tentacles, which were thick and shifting, tangling inside him. Carlos clenched his muscles, anything he could do to get a reaction. Cecil’s left hand came up to rest at Carlos’ throat, not choking, just providing a low, present threat, and then Cecil started to move. Carlos allowed himself to shake apart completely as Cecil thrust into him, shoving Carlos down around him with tentacles, pulling him wider open with two more, his cock caught between them and occasionally rubbing briefly against Cecil’s abs as he moved. He was shouting, he knew it, but he couldn’t stop, didn’t care. His body, his mind, all were filled up with Cecil, _Cecil_ , and when Cecil bottomed out in him, one tentacle rubbing hard against Carlos’ prostate, bit down savagely on Carlos’ earlobe, and filled his ears with a string of profanity and his name in that ungodly sex voice, Carlos fell, screaming Cecil’s name and untouched, over the edge.

      When his vision cleared and colors returned to the world, he saw Cecil leaning over him panting, a goofy grin splitting his face and his eyes beginning to shift to deepest plum. The third eye had faded to smooth skin. The two tentacles holding Carlos’ ankles unwound themselves and joined the other two to wrap tightly around Carlos, clutching him to Cecil. The radio host fell sideways and Carlos found himself wrapped up in eight appendages with Cecil’s face pressed into his neck.

      “Oh Carlos, that was _fun!_ ” he exclaimed breathily, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the marks on Carlos’ neck. Carlos wrapped his newly-released arms around his boyfriend and hung on just as tightly, a little dizzy from the aftermath of his orgasm and the adoration he felt for this complicated man.

      “That, my sweet, sexy Cecil, was perfect,” he said, and then he pressed a kiss to the top of Cecil’s head. “ _God_ , I love you,” he told him, and Cecil sighed with such pure bliss that Carlos felt a zing of joy from his spine to his toes.

      “I love you too, perfect Carlos,” he said. “And while I love giving myself up to you, can we please do this again sometime?”

      “Oh honey-voiced honey,” Carlos said, grinning. “You bet your sweet ass we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! As always, please leave comments telling me the good, the bad, and the ugly. If you'd like to chat with me about this fic or send me prompts or have long, rambling discussions about headcanons, email me at teatearsandbbc@gmail.com

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, guys, this is my first fanfic to post in almost three years and my first Night Vale fic ever. Go easy on me and let me know if you see anything you like, or don't like!
> 
> There will be a sequel to this; turns out I like badass!Cecil a little too much.


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